CHAPTER II

llsmingledinonebitterwhirlofwindandsuffocatingsnow. “Idon’tthinkitpossibleformetogethomenowwithoutaguide,”Icouldnothelpexclaiming.“Theroadswillbeburiedalreadyand,iftheywerebare,Icouldscarcelydistinguishafootinadvance.” “Hareton,drivethosedozensheepintothebarnporch.They’llbecoveredifleftinthefoldallnight:andputaplankbeforethem,”saidHeathcliff. “HowmustIdo?”Icontinued,withrisingirritation. TherewasnoreplytomyquestionandonlookingroundIsawonlyJosephbringinginapailofporridgeforthedogs,andMrs.Heathcliffleaningoverthefire,divertingherselfwithburningabundleofmatcheswhichhadfallenfromthechimney-pieceassherestoredthetea-canistertoitsplace.Theformer,whenhehaddepositedhisburden,tookacriticalsurveyoftheroom,andincrackedtonesgratedout—“Awwonderhowyahcanfaishiontostandtheari’idlenessunwar,whenallon’emsgoanout!Budyah’reanowt,andit’snousetalking—yah’llnivermendo’yerillways,butgoaraighttot’divil,likeyermotheraforeye!” Iimagined,foramoment,thatthispieceofeloquencewasaddressedtomeand,sufficientlyenraged,steppedtowardstheagedrascalwithanintentionofkickinghimoutofthedoor.Mrs.Heathcliff,however,checkedmebyheranswer. “Youscandalousoldhypocrite!”shereplied.“Areyounotafraidofbeingcarriedawaybodily,wheneveryoumentionthedevil’sname?Iwarnyoutorefrainfromprovokingme,orI’llaskyourabductionasaspecialfavour!Stop!lookhere,Joseph,”shecontinued,takingalong,darkbookfromashelf“I’llshowyouhowfarI’veprogressedintheBlackArt:Ishallsoonbecompetenttomakeaclearhouseofit.Theredcowdidn’tdiebychanceandyourrheumatismcanhardlybereckonedamongprovidentialvisitations!” “Oh,wicked,wicked!”gaspedtheelder“maytheLorddeliverusfromevil!” “No,reprobate!youareacastaway—beoff,orI’llhurtyouseriously!I’llhaveyouallmodelledinwaxandclay!andthefirstwhopassesthelimitsIfixshall—I’llnotsaywhatheshallbedoneto—but,you’llsee!Go,I’mlookingatyou!” Thelittlewitchputamockmalignityintoherbeautifuleyes,andJoseph,tremblingwithsincerehorror,hurriedout,praying,andejaculating“wicked”ashewent.Ithoughtherconductmustbepromptedbyaspeciesofdrearyfunand,nowthatwewerealone,Iendeavouredtointerestherinmydistress. “Mrs.Heathcliff,”Isaidearnestly,“youmustexcusemefortroublingyou.Ipresume,because,withthatface,I’msureyoucannothelpbeinggood-hearted.DopointoutsomelandmarksbywhichImayknowmywayhome:IhavenomoreideahowtogettherethanyouwouldhavehowtogettoLondon!” “Taketheroadyoucame,”sheanswered,ensconcingherselfinachair,withacandle,andthelongbookopenbeforeher.“Itisbriefadvice,butassoundasIcangive.” “Then,ifyouhearofmebeingdiscovereddeadinabogorapitfullofsnow,yourconsciencewon’twhisperthatitispartlyyourfault?” “Howso?Icannotescortyou.Theywouldn’tletmegototheendofthegardenwall.” “You!Ishouldbesorrytoaskyoutocrossthethreshold,formyconvenience,onsuchanight,”Icried.“Iwantyoutotellmemyway,nottoshowit:orelsetopersuadeMr.Heathclifftogivemeaguide.” “Who?Thereishimself,Earnshaw,Zillah,JosephandI.Whichwouldyouhave?” “Aretherenoboysatthefarm?” “Nothoseareall.” “Then,itfollowsthatIamcompelledtostay.” “Thatyoumaysettlewithyourhost.Ihavenothingtodowithit.” “Ihopeitwillbealessontoyoutomakenomorerashjourneysonthesehills,”criedHeathcliff’ssternvoicefromthek